


Fluffy Socks and Batman Onesies

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bat Family, Brotherly Bonding, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, Robin!pile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Dick is ten years old. It’s a strange feeling, being this short and all knobby knees and bony elbows again. His body doesn’t ache either; in fact, it was rather refreshing to wake up and not need to pop a couple of anti-inflammatories along with his morning coffee.





	Fluffy Socks and Batman Onesies

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to go to bed and then I had the _best_ idea for how to fill this prompt I got over on Tumblr. Two hours later...

Dick wakes up to the sound of a crash in the hallway outside his bedroom. Before he has a chance to panic, he hears a high pitched curse that sounds so strange coming from Jason’s mouth, immediately followed by Tim’s even higher giggles. 

“You’re gonna be in so much trou-ble,” the boy sing-songs as he runs down the hall.

“Shut yer face!” Jason shouts. “You didn’t see nothin’!” His voice and pounding feet chase after Tim, passing by Dick’s door as he tries to catch his little brother. 

Emphasis on little. They’re all kids again thanks to a rather coordinated spell that struck Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin almost a week ago now. 

Dick is ten years old. It’s a strange feeling, being this short and all knobby knees and bony elbows again. His body doesn’t ache either; in fact, it was rather refreshing to wake up and not need to pop a couple of anti-inflammatories along with his morning coffee. Not that Alfred is letting him drink coffee at the moment. 

Tim is having the hardest time with that. Somehow, even his now six year old body still craves the caffeine fix. Jason thinks it’s psychosomatic, but he also enjoys taunting the ridiculously small boy whenever possible. Not that he’s much better. At eight, Jason is barely a hand taller than the younger boy. A child’s hand, not an adult hand. No one talks about the malnourishment Jason had to have been going through at that time in his life, just as no one stops him from eating anything and everything placed in front of him. 

Hands down though, Damian is having the most difficult time adjusting to his new body. Already an old man before his time, he utterly despises being stuck in the body of a toddler. He more than all of them is constantly being betrayed by his young body, his outbursts growing louder and longer each day as his frustrations mount. 

Bruce is trying hard, Dick will grant him that. Never before has the man had to deal with so many children under his roof at the same time. They may all have their memories and are capable of the same level of discussion as before, but they’re still kids. Mind over matter only works for so long before even the most level headed kid erupts in a meltdown. Bruce is juggling his search to find who did this to them and taking advantage of the time to be a real dad. 

Not that he isn’t when they’re all adults, but Dick finds it reassuring to be able to clamor all over the mountain that is Bruce Wayne again, just like he did as a child. Jason and Tim didn’t get to experience this side of Bruce during their early years at the Manor, both being in their early teens when they become Robin. Even Damian clearly enjoys being held in his father’s arms, although he makes a point to maintain a sour expression the entire time to save face. 

He’s not fooling anyone. 

Dick hops out of bed, instantly awake and full of energy he hasn’t had this early in the morning for years. Today is the big day. He’s been planning this for a couple days now and put some rather backbreaking labor into making sure everything was ready. Hopefully his brothers will appreciate the effort. 

Floor surfing in the ballroom downstairs is something Dick hasn’t done in well over a decade. He figures he’s overdue. 

But first, breakfast. 

~*~ 

“What the hell is the big secret anyway?” Jason asks, padding along on silent feet and hot on Dick’s heels as he leads his brothers deep into the Manor. 

“You’ll see!” 

Jason mutters under his breath, no doubt using language that would make Alfred reach for the soap if he were to hear them. The swear jar is already full of dollar bills and loose change. Ironically, Tim has been caught cursing almost as much as Jason. 

Dick can feel Tim’s eyes on him, quietly judging. This ordeal is wearing on them all, but he is bound and determined to have one big hoorah before things return to normal. Sad as it is, there is no way his brothers would do this with him if they were any older. Truthfully, he wouldn’t either. But they’re kids right now and by god, Dick is determined to act like one while he still has the chance. 

Soon, he stops before the wide doors leading into the ballroom. He grins and drops the bag he packed for the occasion, the contents spilling out onto the floor. 

Tim picks up a pair of socks and shoots a quizzical look at him. “Okay, I give. What on earth are you planning?” 

Dick pushes open the doors, revealing the shiny floor he’d spent so much time working on yesterday. The curtains are wide open and afternoon sunlight streams into the ballroom, creating ready-made pathways for them to explore. “I waxed the floors. Grab your fluffy socks and let’s have some fun!” 

Jason is the first one to grasp the full extent of Dick’s plan. “Oh, shit. Yes. I’ve always wanted to do this.” He immediately plops down onto the floor and changes into the fluffier socks Dick brought for him. 

It takes a moment longer before Tim’s eyes light up and he joins his brother on the floor to swap out his socks. 

Damian though, he plants his little hands on his hips and glares up at Dick. “Wichard, this is widiculous.” 

Jason snorts as he hops back up. “No, I’m pretty sure your inability to properly use an R is the most ridiculous thing around here right now.” He easily evades Damian’s poorly coordinated strike and races into the ballroom with a shout. 

Damian’s baby soft face scrunches up as he flushes red. “Todd!” he screams and tries to rush after his brother, but Dick catches hold of him. 

“Easy there, Dames. You can pop him a good one when we’re back to normal, but just relax and be a kid for once. None of us are judging you or your lisp right now.” 

“Some of us are,” Tim comments, brushing past Dick to enter the ballroom. “I mean, really. Who’d have thought Damian wasn’t born using full sentences?” 

“Tim, don’t provoke him!” Dick tries, but he’s already lost the battle as Damian rips himself out of his arms and races after his brothers, screaming inarticulately. 

The toddler almost immediately slips and falls, landing hard on his butt. He seems more startled than anything else, which is great because he’s no longer screaming bloody murder. Tim and Jason are already on the other side of the room, running and sliding across the freshly waxed floors. 

“Dami?” Dick asks and cautiously kneels next to his baby brother. The little boy is inexplicably enraptured with the antics of his older brothers. 

“Wichard,” Damian says as he carefully regains his feet. “Is this twaining?” There is a serious expression his face that does not bode well for any of them. 

But Dick takes advantage of the opportunity, knowing how his youngest brother thinks. “It is. Balance and coordination. Sneak attacks.” 

It’s complete and utter bullshit is what it is, but Damian nods firmly, accepting the words at face value. He stalks back out the door into the hall where he rips off his thin socks and inspects the two options Dick brought for him. Dick originally had little hope of Damian even contemplating the fuzzy Batman inspired pajama onesie, fully expecting him to choose the socks like Jason and Tim did. 

But the boy surprises him and quickly strips off his pants and t-shirt and steps into the onesie. He struggles with getting his feet into the closed toes, pausing only to glare balefully at Dick when he steps forward to help. Damian has himself situated a moment later and only fumbles slightly as he zips himself into the little black suit, grinning viciously as he pulls the hoodie over his head. Little bat ears stick up mostly straight. One flops a little to the side, but Damian doesn’t notice. 

“Thewe,” he announces proudly. “I am weady fowah battle.”

Dick is about ready to pee himself as he contains his grin. But any break in the solemnity of the moment will have Damian disappearing on him in a flash, so he breathes in through his nose and slowly lets it out his mouth to gain some semblance of control over himself. 

“You look perfect, Damian. The true son of Batman.” 

The grin gains more teeth. “That is because I am.” With that, the little boy races back into the room. 

Hoots and hollers from Jason and Tim turn into shouts and screams as Damian learns his whole body can slide along the floor, not just his feet. 

Dick shakes his head and puts on his fluffy socks. He sure hopes Bruce and Alfred get here soon and can get a picture of Damian. This may be the greatest photo opp they’re ever going to get. As insurance, he takes his phone out his pocket and records a short video of Damian plowing into Jason and Tim and sending them flying across the floor like bowling pins as he purposefully disrupts their slides. All three boys are shouting and yelling, but so far, they’re only a little bruised. He sends it to Bruce, along with a brief message. 

Then, setting his phone aside, Dick races into the room to join them.

 


End file.
